


Changing the Locks

by time_converges



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: Community: watsons_woes, F/M, Gen, Trope Bingo Round 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:40:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/time_converges/pseuds/time_converges
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Joan's first day in the new apartment. Sherlock tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changing the Locks

**Author's Note:**

> Late entry for JWP #2 at watsons_woes “animals animals animals.” Also for the square “curtainfic” at trope_bingo.

Sherlock didn’t help her move into her new apartment. Joan wasn’t surprised, but she couldn’t help being a little disappointed. He had made some excuse about “other duties calling him away,” and she had shrugged with a smile. “It’s okay, Sherlock. I’ll be fine.”

Ms. Hudson and Marcus helped her move her furniture from the storage unit. The furniture store delivered the new sofa. Ms. Hudson fussed with the decor a bit, but eventually pronounced it sufficient. She gave Joan a hug before she left. “Call if you need anything. Anytime.”

Marcus checked out all the neighbors, “Just to be safe.” He stayed for some Thai takeout, but left shortly after. “Better let you get settled. Call if you need anything,” he said as he left.

Joan sat on her new sofa, in her new apartment, and tried to enjoy the silence. Her phone chimed with a text. “At the brownstone. Clyde misses you.”

“Tell him I’ll see him tomorrow,” she texted back. She slept fitfully, disturbed by vague nightmares.

She was less surprised to awaken at dawn to the sound of a drill. As expected, she found Sherlock replacing the locks on her door. He looked up, guiltily, as she walked into the entryway. She just raised her eyebrows at him inquiringly.

“Anyone could get past this lock,” he said, gesturing at the old one scattered in pieces on the floor. 

“Thanks. I wish you had asked beforehand, or waited for a reasonable hour--”

He looked away, busying himself with the new lock apparatus. “Time was of the essence,” he replied.

“Hmm,” she said. She started the coffee maker, and waited as it brewed, listening to Sherlock working on the new locks. Her neighbors were going to hate her.

“There, all finished,” he said as he walked into the kitchen. He held out his hand, two shiny new keys sitting in his palm. She took them and put them on the counter. 

She poured two mugs of coffee and set them on the table. She sat down opposite him, and watched as he sipped from his cup. He looked as tired as she felt. She wondered if he had slept at all.

“Sherlock--” she began.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” He stood quickly and hurried back into the entryway. He returned carrying a large cardboard box.

She eyed it warily. “What is that?”

He placed it gently on the table and stepped back, beaming. “I told you he missed you.”

She peered over the top of the box to find Clyde happily munching a piece of lettuce in the bottom of the box. She reached in to pick him up carefully. “Well, hello Clyde. I missed you, too!” She placed him on the table, and he walked slowly across the tabletop, exploring.

Sherlock sat down again. “I thought we could share custody, if you want. Of Clyde.”

“Share custody?”

“Yes.”

“Sherlock, we’re not getting divorced.”

“Yes, well, the fact remains that we have a tortoise and we are living separately.”

She sighed. Clyde butted his head gently against her arm, and she gave him a piece of lettuce. “I don’t have a terrarium for him.”

“Easily remedied. I’ll build one later today..”

“You don’t have to do that--”

“Yes, I do. I am trying to adapt to the new circumstances.”

She sighed again. “Okay, fine. I appreciate that.”

“Although I don’t understand why you feel you must live apart from me, I respect your decision.”

“Sherlock, I would have thought you of all people would understand about needing a space of one’s own. My own sanctum sanctorum.”

He met her gaze evenly. “My dear Watson, I do indeed. I just thought - hoped--” He shook his head. “No matter.”

She reached over to touch his arm lightly. She heard his indrawn breath when she did. “We’ll be alright. We’ll make this work. I just need some time to figure out--”

“What?”

“What I want my life to look like.”

“Ah.”

Clyde butted his head against Sherlock’s arm, and she drew her hand back with a smile. 

Sherlock cleared his throat and stood. “Yes, well, I should go get the materials for the terrarium, so he can stay tonight.”

She put Clyde back into the box, and stood as well. “Thank you.” She picked up one of the keys from the counter and handed it to him. “You might as well keep one,” she said, shrugging. “Even this lock wouldn’t keep you out anyway.”

He nodded stiffly. “Yes. Right.” He slipped the key into his pocket. “Thank you.”

“No experiments without telling me.”

He nodded again. He paused at the door, and turned to her. “Watson.” He hesitated again, not looking at her. “Whatever you need, you need only ask.” He was gone before she could even say thank you.

That night when the nightmares came, she went out into the living room and watched Clyde explore his new terrarium, and felt something like peace.


End file.
